


and the questions of heaven, for a sinner like me

by figure8



Category: Mythology - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, F/M, M/M, Ragnarok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 02:11:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/645395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figure8/pseuds/figure8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I'm Loki, son of Laufey,” Stiles chants. “And I'm going to burn down the world.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the questions of heaven, for a sinner like me

**Author's Note:**

> This idea was stucked in my head for a veeeery long time, and it had to get out. So, this happened. I don't even know. It's marked as 1/2 because I will certainly write what actually happens after, but it can be read alone without any problem. Not beta-ed, all mistakes are mine. Title from Never Let Me Go by Florence and the Machine. Enjoy? :D

Stiles is five when his father sits him down and gives him _The Talk_. He tells him that he's different and that difference's a great thing. He tells him that they bear the weight of the world on their shoulders, but that it's okay because they do so together, they're a family. He tells him that he's able to do stuff, see things, that ordinary people can't. That he can't talk about it or show off, even if it's nothing to be ashamed of. He tells him he's proud of him. He tells him he loves him and he's glad he's his son. Stiles smiles happily and returns his attention to his stuffed dinosaur toy. 

 

 

Stiles is ten when his mother explains to him what's really going on. 

 

“People never understood what a god _really is_ , Stiles,” she says. “A god isn't some kind of higher entity. A god is an _idea_. A god is a story. Being a god means having a _meaning_. What they think they're worshiping is just a concept. God is everywhere and there are _billions_ of them.”

“It's confusing,” Stiles complains.

“I'm making it clearer, baby boy,” she smiles.

 

She tells him that the world is a never-ending circle. That “gods” are traveling spirits, older than History itself, who find themselves reborn each time the circle reaches a full-stop. Stiles is a clever ten years old. 

 

“Mum, are we gods?” he asks, genuinely intrigued. 

 

She ignores the question and continues her explanations about how ancestral memories come back little by little, in their own time. Stiles doesn't push. He think he's figuring it out by himself already. 

 

 

Stiles is thirteen when she finds out she's ill. 

 

“You're not supposed to die,” he begs, kneeling by her hospital bed. “We're not supposed to _die_!”

 

Her lips stretch in a weak smile.

 

“Remember what I told you, baby boy. We're not what they made us up to be in their heads. Nobody gets to avoid death, son. Not even us who bring balance to the universe.”

 

He bites up a sob and nods. 

 

“You're going to do great things,” she whispers, proudly. “I can _feel it_. Last time I was in a human body I didn't get the time to raise you right.”

“Who were we, mum?”

 

She refused to answer that question for the last four years, saying it will confuse him too much, joking about possible schizophrenia. Maybe she's right, but he wants to know. He doesn't understand why he doesn't _already_. He remembers so much from his previous lives, so much knowledge and experience stocked in the back of his head, but he can't get his damn _name_.

 

She shakes her head no. He never insists.

 

 

Stiles is fourteen when his mother exhales “you're Loki, son of Laufey and Fárbauti, and nobody will ever love you more than I did” before she closes her eyes”.

 

 

It's frightening, knowing who he was and what he's done. He kind of regrets asking, now. He always thought he was a good person, and now he _knows_ there's something utterly, terrifyingly _evil_ inside him. But it also helps. It really helps, actually. He understands the panic attacks now, he understands the ADHD. The constant jumpiness, the _need_ for pranks and mischief. It's in his nature. He finds that so reassuring, so... calming. He loves and hates being who he is. 

 

 

Stiles is sixteen when he meets _one of them_. He never had to wonder with his parents, because he knew they were like him. His mum taught him how to recognize gods, though. How to pick the signals. He just never really payed attention, never found it useful. 

Allison Argent walks in the classroom and he feels like someone stabbed him in the chest. She's beautiful and looks so... reachable, but that's not what shocks him. It's as if she has this whole set of fluorescent arrows dancing around her head, screaming “hey, I'm a goddess, in the literal sense of the term” at him. 

He never felt like he was lonely before meeting her. 

 

 

“I'm Artemis,” she says, extending her hand. He shakes it.

“Loki,” he smiles. “We got some badass archery skills, you and me,” he adds. “We could be wicked friends!”

 

She knows others like them. He learns that being born in a family of gods is rare, let alone the same family of his last incarnation. He feels lucky. Allison mother is human, and her dad's soul doesn't come from the same pantheon as her, so she had to figure everything out by herself. 

 

“You should meet my dad,” she says one day. “You have to catch up on some stuff,” she laughs.

“I kind of killed him in my previous life,” Stiles groans. “Thanks but no thanks, I'll pass.”

 

Chris Argent was Odin centuries ago. Stiles really doesn't need this in his life right now. 

 

She introduces him to other greek gods. A total douchebag named Jackson and an incredibly good-looking girl answering to Lydia. Ares and Aphrodite, they tell him.

 

“I'm still looking for Apollo, you know,” Allison confesses. The night is cold and silent and she's whispering. “It feels so lonely down here without him.”

 

He gets it. He really does. She's the moon and Apollo's the sun. Her other half. He knows he should be looking for someone too. His body aches sometimes with the loss of someone he doesn't even _know_.

 

Lydia is certain something huge is up. There are too many of them in the same place. It never happened before. Stiles asks his father, but Fárbauti sadly shakes his head.

 

“Your mother always said this time was our time.”

 

Stiles is not actually sure he understands.

 

 

Stiles is seventeen the day he first sees Fenrir, and then he just _knows_. He walks slowly to the wolf, carefully holds a hand and brings it to his black fur. It's thick and soft and warm and he buries his fingers in it and he breathes. The wolf sighs happily and comes closer, so Stiles can wrap his arms around him and press his forehead to his muzzle. 

 

“You're mine,” he says, startled. “You're _mine_.”

 

 

The wolf is also a man. The man is as Stiles' as the wolf. He claims his name is Derek and doesn't know about gods or spirits or reincarnation and Stiles doesn't care because he knows enough for both of them. Derek follows him home because he can't let go and it's okay because Stiles can't let go either. He never realized there was a hole that big in him, desperately waiting for his wolf. “You're mine,” he repeats, and Derek nods. “I _made you_. You're Loki's, you're mine.” He feels drunk on the feeling of someone belonging to him. His father watches them play in their garden, Derek in full-wolf form and Stiles using his powers, disappearing and reappearing, faster than lightening, and he seems happy. Later, with Derek in his bed, sucking lovebites on his collarbone, he thinks maybe he was created just for this. Maybe the legends are false, maybe he isn't destined to burn down the world. Maybe he's on earth just to love.

 

 

The legends are true, though. People just never seem to get them right. 

Because nobody warned him about vengeance. Nobody told him about _despair_. Nobody wrote that Loki destroyed everything because they _took Fenrir from him_. 

 

Stiles is twenty-two when he finds his wolf chained to a wall in a half-burned basement. His anger makes him see everything red and he tastes blood on his tongue. He breaks Derek's handcuffs with his bare hands and kisses him, hard, to make sure he's alive. 

 

“I'm going to kill them,” he says while tracing scars on his lover's body with the tip of his fingers. “I'm going to kill all of them.”

 

And suddenly it feels like all his barriers are falling, like his mind is breaking free. Evil has a sweet scent, and Stiles wants to keep smelling it. 

 

“I'm Loki, son of Laufey,” he chants. “And I'm going to burn down the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually looking for a beta so if anyone's interested..? *puppy eyes*


End file.
